all the things i want to say, but can't.

the stories i've drifted into for a few sentences, the moments another soul hovers between life and death.

the people i could have helped more, the ones i reached deep down and found a level beyond "all" to give from; and the majority in the middle whom i strove to do my best for.

family dynamics. loneliness. sometimes the deepest loneliness includes family surrounding you and sometimes it's a singular pronoun for days. the brokenness of wounds that aren't physical but often seem to damage deeper than the physiologic ones i'm treating. the peace that real love and true family brings to chaos and pain and suffering.

so much i've witnessed...but i have no words. or rather, i have no way to free them. the hawk of my high school days that used to beat around in my chest cavity longing for freedom seems to have returned. i don't know where to begin. i don't know how to put stories that aren't mine to pen.
well i guess in part they're mine. i enter for a sentance, or a paragraph; and then the rest of the story sails on without me. to the ending of the epic or just that chapter. the book is uncharted waters to me. all the build and swells of previous climaxes are storms i didn't weather. waves i never stilled.

what i'm trying to say is this practice is creating a tension of story inside me. the science and the art of practicing medicine collide within and leave me here. here being a place with a full heart and mind creating a desperate need to write. but trapped with an inability to arrange letters in ways that do justice to the hallowed space i'm allowed into. maybe it's something i'll grow into. maybe one day the stories will find their way out.

for now, i have to figure out a way to exist in this no man's land. a little tangled.

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